one-worded answers
by Twins 'n Fandoms
Summary: In which Ambition learns that sometimes, even one-word answers are more than enough to express someone.
1. Alexander Hamilton

**So here is a new story (undoubtedly Hamilton) that is supposed to help me overcome a serious case of writer's block. This is gonna be vague, but I hope you still get the gist of it. **

**These characters won't be in order, and yeah, sorry in advance for the shortness of the chapters. My goal is to write above the bare minimum of 300 words, but not enough to reach 1k words in a single chapter. I just wanna get rid of my writer's block, y'all.**

**But still, to people who still read my outrageously outdated fics, thanks a lot. I just wanna pump some words out so I can finally get on writing my other abandoned fics. Thanks for inspiring me, whoever y'all are.**

**Anyways, I've typed for too long. Enjoy this vague shitshow!**

* * *

A long time ago, there was a man.

A man who had long since been faced with a lot of challenges from a very young age.

A man blessed with a gift for words; a word master and a passionate skill for writing and speaking.

A man so persistent and ambitious, as he wove a way through many opponents, drowning them in arguments, non-stop as he chased in pursuit after his dream of his legacy and his own work.

If you asked the same man how he would describe himself in one word, he would not be able to stop the flow of words from his mouth without any pause for breath and any concern for the person who would be undoubtedly overwhelmed with words.

The same man had been the son of a whore, a bastard left alone to his own devices when his mother went quick. He had seen a myriad of horrors.

A dead mother.

A dead cousin.

A hurricane.

A destroyed town.

But he never quit.

He wove together with words a letter that raised him out of his own personal hell and got him out of his hometown, on a ship to America.

He was an immigrant, an immigrant from the British colony that was well-educated and self-taught through countless books that he scoured, stole, scavenged or begged over.

He was a man with wit, brilliance and passion beyond measure that almost practically perfected his own private studies, rising up from out of nowhere, out of hell, and into a life of his own. He made it all the way out.

His ambitions made him write a way to revolution as a soldier and as a essayist and as a aide de camp. He fought for seven bloody years, filled once more with horrors that war brought to the land.

He fought for the idea of a strong central government, for a constitution and for a way to solve America's debts but ultimately he fought for the fledging, unstable and weak country that rose from nothing and slowly got built up.

It was enough. But he was not content.

He was never satisfied.

He chased after the reality of making his financial plan through Congress, everything flung aside for his ambitions and his opinions.

And he...

He crashed and he burned. It all had backfired against him.

And he retreated into the silence, into the background, tending to his wounds but more importantly to his family's wounds, wiping their tears and making sure he'd never leave again.

_(But he would again someday. For the price of pride. To defend his legacy. To defend his own ambition.)_

Hmm.

Let's give him a name.

Let's call him Ambition.

* * *

**I dunno nowadays, y'all. Leave a review or something? I dunno. I'm kind of out of ideas for other character traits. All I have is Elegance, Simplicity and Perseverance/Patience(?) I'm not sure yet. PM me if you have any distinct character traits in mind for a character, I'll be glad to do it.**

**(P.S Regarding our Finest Tempered Girl™️, she's gonna be saved for the last and she ain't going to need a name.)**

**(P.P.S Kudos if you know who FTG™️ and the other characteristics are. I'll post Elegance next, so not her.)**


	2. Angelica Schuyler Church

If you asked Ambition to describe her in one word, his lips would curl into a small smile as he delightfully would reply with Elegance.

The oldest and the wittiest, he would emphasize. The one dressed in pearls, in pink silk and cream-fringed trim, elegance and grace in her step as she slides across the floor, her face half-hidden behind a fan as she attracted stares from everyone.

She held her head high when others would lower theirs and whisper behind her back with contempt for her, but she strode forward with pride, her stare unfaltering and her will unwavering.

She was the smell of new and freshly trimmed roses when he met her in the garden.

She was the spark of passion when they fiercely argued in a battle of wits and words.

She was the tempting charm that left a trail of broken hearts behind her as she walked hand in hand with her husband, envy filling every other woman as she wrapped men around her finger with ease.

She was the fierce fire that crackled in the hearth with an unspoken promise, a buried secret as they both throw their heads back and laugh at an ancient legend as her sister looks on and shakes her head.

She was the temperamental beauty that looked at him with admiration as she compliment his own essays, his own writings.

She was a Schuyler.

And she... was beautiful.

She looked beautiful underneath the tree as they both overlooked the fields, her lightly spilling that she had to go overseas and his spluttering of _Pardon me, what, did you just tell me that you have to go away to London? _and her reassurances of keeping contact with him.

It was reflected in both of their correspondences as he teases her about a mistake in his letter because of a comma, and in both of their impatience for her to come back home to America.

_(Perhaps, in Elegance, there is a deep well of un-satisfaction that no-one would fill or ever satisfy._

_Perhaps that well is in him as well.)_

It was reflected in the fiery tears that she shed as she spoke with the coldness of an executioner, her words hitting their target as she waved the pamphlet in his face with the stubborn and determined expression on her face that spoke volumes of her anger. It was there when she walked away as if she was gliding across the floor like the night they first met, her chin high as tears dripped to the floor in anger, regret and sadness.

She was beautiful.

She was sophisticated.

She was graceful.

She was charming.

She was never satisfied.

She was Elegance.


	3. Thomas Jefferson

If you asked Ambition to describe him in one word, his lips would curl in a sneer and he would say immediately insufferable.

Then he would stay quiet and reply with Charismatic.

Ambition holds a grudging respect and admiration for him, in his obnoxiously expensive coats, honeyed words and presence that simply demanded attention whenever he was in a room speaking.

He remembers him as a great man, that much he can say, to piece with words a masterpiece that declared his dear country's freedom and independence from British monarchy.

But he was also an idealistic opinionated fool.

His simplistic charm leaked through his own speech, a smooth river slowly crumbling away old foundations to give way for another different purpose. The passion was unlike Ambition's own, yet vigor and unrelenting and unchangeable.

You see, this was where unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

He was smart, among the very few that could match and occasionally outwit him in his own level of intelligence, Ambition would give him that. But both had different pursuits and they would chase after it, clashing viciously in a battle of wits and smarts and sense and beliefs.

And Charisma won.

If barely.

And all too soon, his legacy was overshadowed by Charisma's surviving political party that claimed his bank, that claimed his ravaged nation after the War of 1812 as if the stronger federal government was needed.

Charisma won out in the end.

He feels bitterness and grim anticipation as Charisma's legacy stretched into years, into decades and into two centuries.

Ambition remembers brimming to the rim in excitement as the whispers and murmurs of the news broke out and as he strolled beside his president, the man stepping down from the carriage as he towered over him, a glint in Charisma's eyes Ambition merely regarded before as acknowledgement.

"Mr. Jefferson!" He had chirped once before shaking the man's outstretched man vigorously. "Alexander Hamilton."

Yes, Ambition grimly squints from beyond, from the other side.

The same Alexander Hamilton that had a bust settled on a pedestal in Monticello, where Charisma told his guests that he and Ambition were opposed in death as in life.


End file.
